How She Vanishes
by KillamriX88
Summary: The story of how a girl's life changed forever... and she slipped away from the world she knew.
1. Last Words

**Last Words**

A clammy, trembling hand pressed against her forehead. Her own hands gripped the bedside before her as she fought to stay steady on her feet.

"Oh, dear, you're so warm," her mother said in a weak croak, hand falling back to her side. She went silent for a moment, only breathing. It seemed to take her a lot of effort just to speak. "Looks like you finally caught what I have. I'm... sorry, my dear."

She bit her lip. That scared her. She'd watched for the last month as her mother grew weaker and weaker. Finally it had become clear her mother was ill. If she was now sick as well, would she go through the same thing? She'd been struggling to care for the woman who was supposed to be taking care of her. If she became bedridden as well, what would become of them?

"Shh, I'll work as hard as I can to get better so I can take care of you the way you've been taking care of me, so don't worry, OK? I can't possibly stay sick much longer." Her mother patted her on the head. Her mother's voice had used to be a source of comfort, but the illness had reduced it to a weak, raspy shadow of its former self. Now it just reminded her of how bad things had become. "I'm sorry, but, while you're still feeling strong, can you run your errands?"

"Yes, mama," she whispered and nodded obediently. Her errands were to get what little food and medicine they could still afford. They'd been poor enough _before_ her mother had become too ill to work...

 **. . .**

"Duck!" A handful of dirt slammed into the side of her head. Of course, the warning had been shouted well after it was too late for her to actually respond. So, as it was, she just hung her head and did her best to walk faster while trying to brush the filth out of her hair.

This was what always waited for her, only a minute from home, nearly every time she headed out. They had some of the _worst_ neighbors imaginable. And they were currently following her. Apparently she was a source of endless amusement for them. They were just a small bunch of kids around her age.

"Hey!" She ignored them. "Hey!" Still. "Heeeeey!" She turned her head to glare at them, but still refused to speak, and for a good reason. "Aww, c'mon, give us your funny accent again!"

Unfortunately, she'd made the mistake of trying to befriend the local children when she and her mother had moved to Vale a year ago. They'd taken the chance to mock every strange thing about her at the time.

She puffed out her cheeks and tried to walk faster, but suddenly someone grabbed her hair. There were three boys, one of who was now yanking her long, multi-colored hair. Yes, her hair, which was half-pink, half-brown, with a little white mixed in, was one of those "strange things."

"Stop it! Let go!" She complained loudly, unthinkingly breaking her silence. That seemed to placate them momentarily, and her hair was released.

"Calm down, I just wanted to look at it. I've never seen hair like that on anyone else," the offending boy told her, a huge, mischievous grin on his face.

"Yeah, you're so weird! Say something else!" The first boy, their unofficial leader she suspected, demanded.

"No!" she yelled defiantly and turned on her heel to run away.

"Fine, get out of here, weirdo!" they called after her mockingly. At least they finally stopped following her. However, she regretted running away. Before long she slowed to a stumbling walk, breathing heavily. She felt like she was on fire. She was too sick to be running. She began coughing. Was it from being sick, or from her exhaustion?

She couldn't tell. It scared her, because, especially early on, her mother had coughed a lot. It was a big part of the reason her voice was so frail and scratchy. Was she really to end up the same way?

 **. . .**

She was home, but not all the way. She sat outside, in the street, just focusing on breathing. Her mother hadn't gotten better. Over the last week, she'd only gotten worse if anything. She wasn't any better herself. Her own illness was just getting started with its sole purpose of ravaging her body. She was in enough pain as it was; she couldn't stand to watch her mother suffer. Hence _why_ she was outside.

"Hey nerd, still sick?" Of course, sitting outside had its own problems. She just nodded weakly and hoped they would leave. "Want help?" She looked up at them, eyes narrowed suspiciously, and shook her head. There was no way she wanted whatever "help" they were offering.

"Don't be stupid, come on! We'll make you all better!" Suddenly, two of the boys were on either side of her. They grabbed her under each arm and hauled her to her feet. She tried to struggle, but had no strength. They dragged her off to an alleyway a short ways from her home.

The leader then held out a bottle to her. "Here, this medicine helped my parents when they were sick. It'll probably help you too. It's hard to get, though, so we can't let anyone know we have it. That's why we're being sneaky!" He grinned like he thought he was very clever.

"R-really?" She gulped. Could this really help her? And if it did, would it help her mom too?

"Yeah, totally!"

"Wh-what about my mom? She's even more sick!" Her voice was scratchy and it hurt to talk, but she was desperate.

"Of course! Just don't drink it all. Try it now, and if it works on you it'll probably work on her too! Just give her the rest!" They all smiled at her. With trembling hands, she slowly reached out and took the bottle. The glass was a dark brown, and it was hard to see through it, though she could tell it was filled with some sort of liquid.

"N-now?"

"Duh! The sooner you take it the sooner you get better!" His grin spread. Perhaps he thought he was some sort of hero and was excited. "Hey! What do you say?"

"Oh, um..." She gulped nervously. "Thank you." It didn't matter what he thought of himself. She just needed to know if she'd really been saved. Hopefully it wasn't just some old, disgusting soda they'd rebottled. The worst case scenario was them laughing at her. She was already miserable, she'd survive a little humiliation. The risk was worth it.

She unscrewed the cap and shut her eyes. She didn't want to see or smell it in case it was gross. She wanted to get it down as quickly as she could.

She took one, huge gulp and realized her mistake.

It burned. It felt like she'd swallowed fire. Was it alcohol? She'd heard that it burned when you drank it. No, it hurt worse than that. It felt like her throat was tearing apart.

She began coughing, hacking violently. She dropped the bottle and clutched at her throat, clawing at it as if she could get out whatever it was that was hurting her.

"Ha! See? We're gonna cure your dumb accent! We're helping you!" Indeed, they began laughing. She wasn't even paying attention to it. She fell to her knees. She tried to speak, to beg for help, but everything caught in her throat. Soon, even coughing was beyond her. She could only gag and choke.

"C'mon! Say something! Let's see if your voice is better!" Their taunting was relentless.

Her stomach heaved. It was rejecting whatever it was she'd swallowed. She doubled over, another heave rocking her fragile, tiny body. Then it finally came back up.

She hurled out a vile mixture of bile and something else. It was a sour and metallic taste as it spewed out of her mouth. She heard one of the boys shriek fearfully. She hadn't eaten in so long, so there was no mistaking what had just happened. Most of what had come out of her was blood.

Tears streaming, gasping for what few, tiny breaths she could get into her lungs, she reached out. Surely this was too much. Surely they regretted going so far. They _had_ to help her. They all stared at her, horrified.

If they did regret it, it wasn't enough. They turned tail and ran.

She coughed again, spraying out more blood. She couldn't even call for help, her throat was destroyed. She collapsed.

 **. . .**

She wasn't sure how long she lay there. She thought for sure she must be dying. She was sure that any moment she'd fade out and never come back. She was so torn. She wanted to let go, sleep, let the pain go away and just hope for the best. She was also afraid. As long as she was awake, she could focus on each, painful breath and know for sure that she was still breathing.

If she let herself sleep, would she keep breathing? Or would it be too hard for her body without her forcing it to keep going? It was so hard. Her throat felt like it had sealed shut, and she could only manage tiny little gasps. The second after she breathed in, she immediately felt like she was suffocating again. It just wasn't enough air.

"Little girl?" She heard a voice and she turned her head, cheek scraping against the pavement for she could not find the strength to lift herself from the ground. From there, all she could see was a pair of boots and the cuffs of a man's khaki pants. "Little girl!" She saw the boots rushing toward her. He must have seen her move. "Oh my-. . . Oh my, oh my..." She heard his worried mumbling as he knelt down next to her.

Only seconds later she felt herself being lifted off the ground. Finally she just gave in. Someone had found her. Whether she stayed breathing after that or not, she'd let someone else decide. She was so tired, so weak. She let herself drift off

 **. . .**

She dreamed and dreamed and in a few, strangely lucid moments knew she was dreaming and wondered if that was all she had left. Then, full awareness began to return to her. She was still breathing. Not weak, agonizing gasps, but full breaths. They still hurt, but compared to what she'd felt before it was borderline blissful.

She breathed and breathed and finally sucked in one, wonderfully deep breath and let her eyes pop open. She was in a bed, she realized. The sheets were clean and soft, and the mattress was warm, though a little stiff. Her bed at home was softer, though rather lumpy and uneven. All in all, she liked the bed she was currently in a little better. It certainly smelled better.

"Doctor!" It was a vaguely familiar voice, though she couldn't figure out why. It was a man's voice, and she didn't really know many adults.

"Yes?" Another male, but older, voice responded. This one she definitely didn't know.

"Over here, sir. The girl's awake!" She turned her head, and at her bedside was a younger man, perhaps in his late twenties. He had short, black hair, carefully trimmed and tight to his head. She noticed he wore a white lab coat which looked either brand new or very well cared for. He was even wearing a nice shirt and tie underneath it.

Behind him she saw curtains, large and white, all around them. Looking down past her feet, she saw a large gap, big enough for a person to walk through. Where exactly was she? The curtains were soon drawn back a little more, and she saw a glimpse of an open area beyond the curtains. Wherever she was, it was a large room that she was in.

The person who'd given her that glimpse was an older gentleman, likely the "Doctor." He had hair that had all gone gray and a small mustache that was still darker in color. He had some light stubble that was a mix of the darker and the gray. He looked a little rougher than the other man, but he too wore a lab coat, but she could tell it was much older, though still well cared for. He was no slob, but he was well weathered from what she could see.

 _"Where am I?"_ That was what she'd intended to say. Her lips began to form that first "W," but next thing she knew her throat clamped down and she broke into a coughing fit.

"Easy there, child. Your throat is in rough shape." The older man moved to her side and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed a strong, but soft hand on top of her tiny one. "You're lucky Doyle here found you." The younger man, Doyle, inclined his head in greeting.

"You're were in bad shape, kid. You swallowed some pretty nasty stuff," Doyle told her.

"I'm not sure what drove you to that, but... that's never the answer," the old man said. "But anyway, I'm sure you're in no mood for a lecture, especially from a stranger."

She certainly wasn't! Did they think she'd done it on purpose? That it was her fault? She'd been tricked! She'd thought it was medicine!

Speaking of which, she didn't actually feel _that_ sick at the moment. A little warmer than even a nice bed should have made her, yes, but nowhere near as bad as she had been. Had they cured her already? He was supposedly a doctor, after all.

She had so many questions! Why couldn't she talk? It was so frustrating!

"Anyway, I'm sure you're confused. You've been out for quite some time." She stared at the doctor. First she was just puzzled, but then slowly her eyes widened in horror. How long was "some time?"

She shot up and the two men both reach out to hold her still. She began hyperventilating, unfortunately prompting yet another coughing fit. But what about her mother? Her mother could barely move. Without her, who would take care of her? Who _had_ been taking care of her?

No one. The answer came all to quickly to her.

 _"How long? HOW LONG?"_ She wanted to ask, _had_ to ask. She tried again and again to get the words out but her body failed her. Her throat quickly grew raw and painful as she hacked violently.

"What is it child? Doyle, get a pen and paper!" The Doctor commanded and Doyle quickly pulled a pad and pen out of his coat pocket. The Doctor took it and handed it to her. "OK, now take it easy. First, why don't you give us a name? It'll make talking to you a bit easier."

Shakily, impatiently, she wrote down her name. _Neopolitan._

"That's an interesting one, but it certainly suits you. Mind if I call you Neo for short?" he asked her, and she nodded. "Good. My name is Grane Adalgrau, it's nice to meet you. Now, let's cut to the chase then. What has you so spooked?"

 _How long?_ Her handwriting was messy, especially so since she was in a hurry.

"Well, you've been asleep three days. I guess this would be the fourth morning since I found you." Doyle did the mental math required to answer her question.

Neo did her best to stave off her panic long enough to write exactly what was worrying her. _Mother very sick._

"Ah, of course! You were quite ill when we found you, aside from your throat. Your mother is the same way then?" Grane deduced. Neo nodded frantically that such was the case.

 _I have to take care of her._

"Well, you're in no condition to do that. Your illness was a serious one, but also one that we've long since developed an effective treatment for. Untreated though... well..." He turned to Doyle. "I think it's best we find this woman immediately. I'm going to send you out again." Back to Neo. "Neo darling, can you tell us where to find her? Is it near where we found you?"

Where had she been? They'd dragged her, but not far. Just across the street, really.

 _Yes. Across street. Second floor._ She proceeded to draw a crude picture with an arrow pointing to her home.

"All right, I'm on it." Doyle tore the sheet from the notepad. "I'll go right now."

"Good boy." Grane nodded and Doyle dashed out of the curtained room. "Now, darling, we have a bit of a wait on our hands. Any other questions now that we can communicate?"

 _Where am I?_ She did, and that was the biggest one at the moment.

"Ah, this is my clinic! A lot of people in this part of Vale don't have that much money. They don't buy food _and_ medicine, but food _or_ medicine. And all the medicine in the world won't keep you from starving, so it's obvious what they'll pick." She knew he was right. She'd been living that exact situation. "So, having some money and being a doctor, I found an empty building and set up shop. We get some donations so that I don't burn through my own funds too quickly, and we provide basic treatment to people free of charge."

 _Cool._ She really didn't know what else to. . . write. She really hated it being her only way to talk. At least she had it, she supposed.

"Hm, let me go, will you? I have my own question." Neo didn't bother wasting the effort writing, and just looked at him expectantly. "Are you hungry?"

What? Hungry? She thought about it for a second, and decided she wasn't. By the time she finished processing that thought, her stomach growled and she immediately changed her mind. It _had_ been about four days since she last ate... What had that even been? A slice of bread with some cheese if she remembered correctly.

 **. . .**

Pudding. He'd come back with pudding. Now, she'd had pudding before. You could get a pack of pudding cups for only a few lien. But, when you were as poor as her family had been, after a while, even just a little bit of money couldn't be spared for the luxury of cheap pudding. It was nonessential.

But this was not cheap pudding, and it was gentle on her throat. He urged her to eat slowly so she wouldn't upset her stomach, but before long she began to go all out as her appetite returned to her in full. Of course, it seemed he'd outwitted her, as her spoon wasn't very big, so even at full steam she could only shovel it into her mouth so fast.

That was probably a good thing, though. Not only did it help keep her from getting sick, but it made it last longer. It was really good pudding. It wasn't exactly a proper meal, but it made her feel better and put something in her stomach.

"Was it good?" The way the old man chuckled, it was obvious he already knew the answer.

 _"Yes."_ She intended to reply anyway, but of course her voice didn't work. She bit her lip and just nodded a little instead, her good mood suddenly dampened. She then had a thought that worried her deeply. She looked at Grane and pointed insistently at her throat. _"Will it get better?"_ That's what she wanted to know.

"Ah, your voice..." His expression turned serious. "Unfortunately, your illness was left untreated for quite some time. Then, on top of that, you swallowed some very harsh chemicals. The muscles in your throat that allow you to speak were damaged and weakened. With some luck, they'll heal, but... your voice will almost certainly never be the same." He looked hesitant, but eventually he spoke again. "And... there _is_ a chance you'll never be able to properly speak again. Even when the injuries are fully healed, your vocal cords may not work anymore. There are things I would have liked to have done that we just don't have the resources for here."

She might really never speak again? It can't be said that she went quiet, she already was of course, but she did go still.

She'd never had much, and recently she'd lost a lot. As time went on, she'd had less and less as things got harder. And yet, she'd never imagined that she could have her voice taken from her.

"Look," he got her attention, "it's too soon to be worrying so much. And either way, you can overcome something like this. Trust me. From now on, things will simply be... different." If that was supposed to make her feel better, it didn't. "Of course, I understand that right now you're-" He jumped, startled when Neo lashed out, striking her pudding dish and sending it flying into the curtain. She'd already finished it, so the empty, metal dish made a loud clattering as it hit the floor. "-. . . upset."

That was putting it mildly.

 **. . .**

She began to grow antsy. Where was Doyle? Where was her _mother?_ What was taking so long? It had been hours. She supposed she didn't know where the clinic was. Who knew how far she had been taken from home. But still, she couldn't stop her anxiety from building up.

Grane had eventually left her little curtained area, stating he had to check on the few other patients he currently had. He checked back in every so often, but that made it worse. She had no clock to look at, so she began to gauge the passage of time based on how many times he checked on her. Five times, he'd come and gone five times with no word about her mother.

His comings and goings were not quick affairs.

Finally, as he was leaving for the _sixth_ time, something happened. "Ah, Doyle!" he exclaimed, taking a quick left as he exited her space. She could hear them talking, just outside the curtains. Not everything, their voices were hushed, but it was enough. She was mute, not deaf!

She understood enough. She knew what they would say when they came to her. Yet, she didn't know.

"Darling..." Grane said softly as he led Doyle over to her bed.

 _"You don't have her."_ She wanted to accuse them, but all she could do was frown with eyes narrowed; mostly at Doyle. He was the one who had failed her.

"Kid, uh..." Doyle rubbed the back of his neck. "I couldn't bring her back. She..."

"She's gone, child," Grane said what Doyle had been struggling to.

 _"Gone?"_ She hadn't been there? Had she left to look for her? Neo had thought her mother too sick to move, though.

Grane sighed upon seeing Neo's confused look.

"She had the same illness as you, but if you were caring for her then I assume she had it first. After so long without proper treatment... The illness took her."

Took her? Her mother had been taken? Gone? It finally made sense. She wished it didn't. Her heart began to pound, faster and faster until she could hear it slamming her in ears. Her body shook and she began grabbing and pulling, _tearing_ at the bed sheets, though her trembling little hands could not rip them.

Strangely, she shed no tears. She just felt herself winding up tighter and tighter on the inside. It was getting hard to breathe again; only managing short, frantic gasps. It couldn't be real, no. Why should she cry? It wasn't real.

"Darling..." Grane reached for her shoulder. But it was real, wasn't it? They way they looked at her with such pity. She _was_ pitiful. She was a pitiful, sick, mute orphan. They'd given her nothing but bad news since they'd brought her there.

She pulled away. She had to get away. She threw the bed sheets away and clambered out of the bed. They made no move to stop her. It was like they didn't see her. Her feet hit the cold floor and she bit her lip. She took a step and her legs wobbled. She stumbled past Grane, who still didn't even look at her. Before she could reach the gap in the curtains her knees gave out and she fell, barely able to catch herself with her hands at the last second.

At that moment she heard a pair of startled gasps from behind her.

"Neo!" The next thing she knew, Grane had spun around and was lifting her to her feet.

"What was that? Doctor! You did something before! What-"

"Doyle, not now!" Grane shot back at the younger man.

She gave up. She couldn't even walk. She couldn't even make it out of that terrible room where nothing good had happened. Her mother was gone, and she was stuck there with no choice but to accept that. Finally, she couldn't fight it anymore; her tears came as her body went limp.

All she had in that moment were twin streams of silent tears running down her face.

That was the day Neo realized everything for her had changed. But it was just one change. It was merely the ending of what until that moment had been her life. Looking back, it felt like such a small change.

* * *

 **It's been suggested that Neo isn't actually mute. But I reject that reality and substitute my own. I also take the chance to just absolutely destroy the poor girl. I enjoy tormenting the ones I love.**

 **This is part one of two. The next part will be out... soonish, I hope.**

 **Til' next time!**


	2. First Step

**First Step**

Anger. Guilt. Anger. Guilt. Anger. Guilt. Hate and self-loathing. It was an endless cycle that ran through Neo's head. It was all that made the time pass for her as she sat there, propped up on her bed, eyes glossed over and lips permanently sealed.

She hated those children for taking her voice from her, for incapacitating her and forcing her to abandon her mother. It was them who had murdered her. Or was it? Then guilt would wash over her. She was the one who had been dumb enough to trust them, and even _thank_ them. Was it not Neo who had murdered her own mother in the end?

And so, unable to decide who to lay the blame on, she sat there endlessly, unable and unwilling to respond to Grane and Doyle. The only times the monotony broke even slightly was when they brought her food to pick at. The only thing she was positive of was her misery.

With nothing to do, though, even misery faded to the back of her mind. A sort of passive suffering while her mind screamed for _something_ else to occupy it. So, one day she had urged Doyle to part her curtains a little more so she could see out into the room. She watched them come and go and tend to their other patients. That was five days after she woke up. It was another four days after that when she finally got out of bed.

Nine days of sitting and sleeping had left her wobbly, even if she was healthier otherwise.

"Doyle!" Grane was struggling to hold someone down. It was a man with a dirt-stained face who looked half out of his mind. "Doyle, he broke the syringe! Did you buy replacements like I told you? Get me one!"

"O-on it, doctor!" Doyle rushed over to a cabinet, but soon began frantically feeling around. He came up empty. Neo pulled herself out of her bed and stumbled out of her curtained room and down the aisle of the building. She found a box lying on a small, metal cart that had been left abandoned in a corner.

With nothing to do, she remembered very well a number of things that see had witnessed, including when Doyle had acquired the new case of needles and then been interrupted before he could put them away.

She grabbed the box, opened it, and pulled out a clean syringe. She then wobbled as quickly as she could back to Grane and offered it to him.

"Neo? Ah, very good, darling! Doyle, hold him down while I fill this!" Grane ordered and Doyle rushed over to take his turn restraining the patient. Grane then was able to inject some drug into the man that made him relax and cease his struggling.

"You're a life saver, Neo." Grane patted her on the head. "Good to know someone can keep track of things." He shot an amused look at Doyle.

"Hey! It's just us two doctors and we can't keep a nurse around to save our lives!" Doyle frowned glumly.

"Oh, you're fine, Doyle." Grane chuckled. He then caught Neo staring at the patient curiously. "Don't worry about him, darling. I just gave him something to make him sleep. He's a repeat patient who needs some drugs to keep his head on straight. Unfortunately they're hard for even me to get, and even then he doesn't always remember to come and get them."

"So much for doctor-patient confidentiality," Doyle muttered.

"It's fine, Doyle. I'm just confiding in my trustworthy nurse! You should be happy, weren't you just complaining that we didn't have any?" Grane laughed and patted Neo again. Despite everything, Neo ended up smiling a little. She felt she'd done something really good just then.

 **. . .**

It quickly became a habit for Neo. Whenever Doyle was busy or away running errands, Neo would scamper around assisting Grane by getting things for him. So, when Grane said that he couldn't let her keep using her bed, she was quite shocked and more than a little hurt. Of course, it was her own fault for jumping to conclusions.

Neo stared at Grane, eyes wide and lips pouty. He'd just informed her that since she was pretty much fully recovered that he couldn't have her filling up one of his beds anymore. But where would she go?

"Ah! No need to make such a face! I'm not kicking you out, darling." Grane quickly corrected her, seeming a little panicked himself at having upset her. "Come with me."

He then led her off to the side of the building and through a door. She'd seen the door in passing a few times, but never what was beyond it. It was a large room that seemed to have been set up as a half-office, half-bedroom.

Most important, she saw that in the corner of the room to her right was a second bed aside from the main one which must have been Grane's.

"We had some spare equipment lying around, so we took one of the beds and one of the curtains to give you your own little space back here," he told her. "Now, it's optional of course, you don't have to stay here with us, but... Well, you see, you're not the first child to come through here without any parents to go back to, but I can't quite justify sending you into the system; not if you'd rather stay with us."

She just craned her neck to look up at him, puzzled. What did he mean? Why was she so special?

"Well, for starters, you can't talk. Just one stroke of bad luck and you'd end up somewhere with people without the patience required to take care of you and then you'd just be miserable. You'd likely end up bouncing from place to place as they lost patience. You're a good kid, but you're a little high maintenance." Neo really didn't know how to react to that, so she just frowned and waited for him to continue. She could tell by his face that there was something else. That had just been the "for starters."

"There's one other thing. When we brought you In, you were in terrible condition. With our capabilities, quite frankly, you weren't going to make it," he said and she froze. It was terrifying to hear, but she took a breath and calmed down. Obviously she _had_ made it, so there was no need to be afraid. But then, _why_ had she made it? "You see, being a doctor was my second choice. At first, I had wanted to be a huntsman. I wasn't cut out for it, I couldn't handle the difficulties that came with such a profession. I mean, you need to be cool enough to deflect bullets while being shot at. I could never quite get that down, among other things."

Neo listened attentively, but she honestly had no idea what that had to do with her.

"But I got far enough that I learned about things like aura. Everyone has it, but it's effectively dormant in most of us. When it's awakened, however, it can perform things that seem like miracles. So, that's what I did. A lot of people would probably call me irresponsible, but I used my aura to unlock yours. It gave you the extra push necessary to heal and survive."

Aura? What was aura? Some sort of huntsman thing? She had that? She'd heard about huntsmen; warriors that were strong enough to challenge the hordes of grimm that roamed the world. Did she really have their powers now? She certainly didn't _feel_ like fighting grimm...

"With your aura unlocked, it would _definitely_ be irresponsible to just toss you back out into the world. You could cause quite a lot of mischief." He put a hand on her shoulder. "So, if you'd like, you're welcome to stay here and long as you want. I can even teach you what little I know and maybe get you enrolled in a combat school. Right now you have nothing, and combat service can be a great way to get yourself on your feet if you can handle it."

School? Combat service? Her head was spinning. She decided to just focus on the one thing that was clear: she had a place to stay.

 **. . .**

"Ow, ow, OW! Easy old timer! You're gonna break it again!" A loud, male voice echoed through the building.

It was small, re-purposed warehouse, Neo had learned. It was basically in two parts. There were two rows of beds, all surrounded by curtains, on one half. There, the floor had been redone with some clean, off-white tiles and the walls had been painted. That was where Neo had stayed for the first two weeks after her arrival. The other half was still only half-finished, with a concrete floor and mostly just had a few rows of padded tables where patients who didn't need much privacy or an overnight stay could be treated.

Some people would just walk in, grab a spot, and wait for one of the doctors to get to them. It was a bit of a messy system, but it seemed to work.

"Darling, grab me some finger splints, would you?" Grane requested and Neo trotted off to do as she was asked. She came back and saw that his patient that day was a tall young man, perhaps even still a teenager, with bright, orange hair that she could tell had been meticulously combed. He also had bruises all over his face and the fingers on his right hand didn't seem to bend quite right.

"Well aren't you cute, all scrubbed up." The teen smirked at her. Indeed, rather than her patient gown which she had worn before, they had gotten her some medical scrubs to wear, with the promise to get her better clothing going forward. She didn't mind, however. She was helping doctors work, so she felt the scrubs fit perfectly for the time being. "So you're using child labor now?"

"No, nothing like that. She just likes helping out," Grane said and began setting the young man's fingers.

"Hm. So, kid, what's your name?" he asked her, a strained look of pain on his face. He probably wanted to focus on _anything_ except what was happening to his hand. He was about to be sorely disappointed if he was hoping talking to her would help. All she offered him was a quick set of three signs with her hand. "Eh?"

"Ah, I'm afraid she can't talk so she's trying to learn sign-language. Do you mind?" Grane glanced at her and she shrugged. "Her name is Neopolitan."

"What? You're telling me she signed that long ass name just like that?"

"Ah, no, that was just the first three letters. We tend to just call her Neo."

"Oh. Well nice to meet you I gu- OW!" The young man hissed in pain. "The name's... Roman..." he spoke through gritted teeth.

"All right, all done," Grane said. "Now, would you please stop showing up in such deplorable condition?"

"Hey, I'm going places! Good places, _high_ places! It's just a hard road!" Roman argued.

"Yes, the road of a _criminal_ is usually an unpleasant one." Grane stared at Roman with obvious disapproval.

"Oh stuff it or call the cops already." Roman scoffed and then hopped off the treatment table. "See you around."

"I hope not, for your sake." Grane sighed as Roman stormed out of the building. Neo shot the older man a questioning look. "Hm? You're probably wondering why I don't turn him in, aren't you?" She nodded. "Well, I probably should, honestly, but I don't want anyone, even criminals, to be afraid of seeking treatment. I want people to know this is a safe place, no matter what. I want to save as many lives as I can, even the guilty ones."

Neo smiled back at him and puffed her tiny chest out confidently. It seemed like a good goal, and she wanted to help.

"Ah, on board are we? Good! Well, let's get back to work. We're bound to have other patients before long."

 **. . .**

An entire year passed. The pain of loss faded into the background and she began collecting little things here and there to put around her bed. She had pictures, flowers, and some small gifts from the patients who had gotten to know her.

She also had a few sets of nice clothes. Grane truly did have quite a lot of money, and she even had a particularly nice dress that Doyle had gotten her early on. They'd also gotten her a few sets of scrubs that were actually her size. The ones she'd worn in the beginning had been modified and even then very baggy.

She was also getting better at sign-language, though she was a bit lazy with it. Doyle had taken to learning it as well in an attempt to motivate her. Grane, however, only bothered learning a select few signs, and otherwise just spoke to her since she wasn't deaf. Despite that, he generally understood her fairly well. They'd gotten used to each other.

She was currently somewhere else with him, rather than the clinic. "And this, darling Neo, is my house. Feels like I haven't seen it in forever." To her understanding, he rarely went home anymore, only occasionally doing so to check on it and never to stay. Apparently he hadn't spent one night at his house since Neo had arrived at the clinic.

She wondered why he had suddenly brought here there. He didn't bring her inside, though. He led her through gate into the house's backyard.

"Neo, I figure it's time I start teaching you about your aura. The best way to do that is a little sparring. Of course, you don't know a thing about fighting and you're barely taller than my shoe, so we won't exactly be fighting just yet." She crossed her arms and frowned at the jab at her height. She'd always been shorter than the other children she saw, and apparently she was growing more slowly than normal according to Grane.

Grane walked over to a sturdy, though rather plain, cabinet that sat off to the side of the yard. She wondered why there was a cabinet outside, but her wonders were soon answered. He opened the cabinet and pulled out a sword - an actual sword.

Neo stared at the sword, wondering what he planned to do with it. Surely he wasn't going to swing it at her! She gulped as he walked toward her. Soon, she found herself taking a few, nervous steps backward.

"Relax, Neo. We'll start slowly." Grane held the sword loosely at his side. "The thing that separates a Huntsman from a normal person is their aura. All people, all living beings, have one, to some extent, but only _some_ have it unlocked. Only _some_ can control it. Today, I'll begin teaching you how as best I can."

She gulped. How did he plan to go about that?

"Imagine a barrier around yourself. I unlocked your aura, so it should be there for you to feel. Convince yourself that nothing can touch you. Once you get it to react once, you'll know how it feels, you'll know how to call it out at will. Ready?" She took a shaky breath and nodded. Ready for what, she wasn't sure. But... in for a penny.

She fell on her rear, clutching her head. He'd swatted her with the flat of the sword without warning. It hadn't been a particularly hard blow, but it stung. It hurt enough that she didn't want it to happen again. She looked up at him, pouting, in no rush to stand up and subject herself to more.

"Hmm, alright, let's give you a demonstration first, to get you more motivated." He sighed. "Sorry about that, dear." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. He then handed her the blade. "All right, now go ahead and stab me."

Her jaw dropped and her hands began shaking. He wanted her to do _what_? She shook her head vigorously, not wanting to be orphaned a second time.

"Trust me dear, _I_ can use my aura." She bit her lip, but then grabbed the hilt with two hands and lunged forward wildly, eyes screwed shut. She really hoped her trust was well placed.

Now, Neo didn't know what stabbing someone felt like, but what she felt when the blade struck something didn't seem right. It was too... sudden. It just stopped.

She opened her eyes slowly, one at a time, and saw that the point of the saber had been halted by Grane's bare palm. She dropped the sword in shock, just staring. There wasn't even a hint of blood.

"See? This is aura," he said. "Want to keep going?"

This time, she nodded, and with even more excited vigor. She wanted to be just like him.

 **. . .**

"Kid, I told you... I don't know your fancy sign-langua- OW! Alcohol? Really? Can't you use something that don't sting so much?" Over a year after the first time she'd seen him, and Roman was still kicking. And he was still breaking the law and subsequently gracing them with his presence. Fortunately this was only the third time she'd seen him, so at least he wasn't a regular. She liked Grane's ideals, but even so... she wasn't a huge fan of a criminal being a repeat patient.

She was currently dabbing at his eyebrow with a cotton-ball, cleaning a gash that he'd managed to acquire. Once she had it sufficiently clean, she tossed the now bloody cotton and pulled a notepad and pencil out of her pocket.

 _Can you use aura?_ She was obsessed with it now, and she figured Roman must have _something_ going on to keep him alive.

"What? No. That's a huntsman deal. I don't got nobody to teach me those kinds of tricks. Be pretty damn useful though." He chuckled darkly. "Why? Can _you ?_ " he asked her mockingly.

 _Yes._

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Say what? How?"

 _Grane is teaching me. He unlocked it to save me._

"Huh, fancy that. Well aren't you a special little brat? A skill like that is pretty valuable."

 _Are you gonna steal me?_

"Pfft!" Roman burst out laughing. "You know, now that you mention it, I'm kinda tempted, but I don't think I could sell you. You're not that kind of valuable. Good one, though."

Neo couldn't help but giggle, silently. It was more like a puff of air out of her nose and a tiny smile.

"Hey though, give it a year and if you want to get into a lucrative life of crime, look me up!" Roman winked at her.

"Roman, please try to refrain from corrupting my nurse," Grane spoke up, walking over to see what they were laughing about. "How is he, dear?"

 _Fine._ She signed, rather than writing, since Grane _did_ understand. She grabbed a small bandage for his gashed brow. She'd already handled the rest of his scrapes and cuts. Coupled with a few bruises, and it was clear he'd been in a brawl.

"Well, that kinda looked like a good sign. You done?" Roman asked and she nodded. "Good. Thanks kid." He then dug into his pocket. "Here, for your trouble." He pushed a card into her hand, a lien chip.

"Roman, we're a _free_ clinic."

"Yeah, that's why I gave it to the nurse instead you, old man. It's called a gift." He then ran hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it out. "Besides, it's not _mine._ See you around." He paused. "Well, hopefully not, actually."

As he walked away, Neo looked at the stolen money and tilted her head. She really didn't know how to feel about it...

 **. . .**

Another six months, and a visit from a roughed up Roman, later, and Neo was continuing her practice sessions with Grane. Her aura control was spotty, but thanks to regular practice, she was getting rather nimble with a saber. She was arguably better at fencing than she was at sign language. At least she enjoyed fencing. Sign language felt useless, since the only one who was good at it was Doyle. It was useless with the patients.

Grane stabbed at her with his own saber, but she caught the blade, parried it aside, and then quickly stepped in and held the point of her own to his throat. He froze, and then relaxed, granting her victory. She bounced up and down happily, reveling in a rare victory. She knew he had gone easy on her, but still... moments like that made her practice feel worthwhile.

"Heh, you're a regular- Oh? Excuse me!" He turned around and pulled his scroll out of his pocket. "Yes? Oh! Well it's nice to hear your voice! My daughter really needs to bring you over sometime soon! It's been far too long! How old are you now? My, my, you know, there's a little nurse helping me out these days just about your age! What's that? Oh, very well, put your mother on..." After that, Neo tuned out and ignored his conversation.

She knew he had a _real_ daughter who was married and had a child. She'd never met them, and until just then, she was pretty sure they didn't know she existed. It seemed his daughter did not approve of the "charity" Grane provided with his clinic, and over the years the tension had pulled them apart.

She seemed to think _all_ their patients were people like Roman – criminals. Dangerous. Yes, Roman and a few others were criminals, but they never did anything. Roman was even good for a laugh when he dropped by. If she had to pick a favorite criminal... well, he'd do. Though, the criminal thing was still a bit of a negative, even in her mind.

"Sorry about that, dear. But I think we're good for today anyway. Let's leave it on a high-note for you, shall we?" Grane suggesting, putting his scroll away. She nodded in affirmation, happy to leave off on a win. "I'm surprised my daughter actually called _me_. You know, you're pretty much family yourself at this point. I should show up for the next holiday meal and bring you with me. Maybe that cute face of yours can help smooth things over!" He laughed heartily.

Neo smiled and flipped a loose strand of hair over her shoulder, and then placed her hand on her hip.

"Hm, maybe I should treat Roman the next time he drags himself in... I think you're starting to pick up a bit of his attitude." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, yes, in about two months! I'll bring you and we'll all have dinner. I'll call them back tonight!"

 **. . .**

It was just a few days away. The big dinner with Grane's family. Maybe... _her_ family? Would they accept her? They were a higher-class family. She was a poor orphan who had gotten lucky to receive Grane's "charity." She still couldn't believe they were so opposed to his clinic.

Grane insisted a lot of it was just worry, since it was a bad neighborhood, but still... couldn't they see the good he was doing? That _they_ were doing? Maybe it bugged her so much since in a way it had become her clinic too.

Maybe if they saw her, a real success story, they'd soften up a bit. For Grane, she'd do her best. If she could help fix his family, maybe it would help pay him back for saving her.

In preparation, she and Grane were working late. Doyle had long since gone home. They'd done their best to get all their patients out of the clinic. They were planning on an overnight trip, so they wanted to lessen Doyle's workload while they were gone. They were also stocking up the cabinets and cleaning things up, checking the locks on the drug cabinet, etc.

"It looks good, kid. Been a while since me and Doyle went all out to put some real work into the clinic. Reminds me of when we first converted it from a warehouse." He leaned his back on a counter that they'd cleaned to a mirror finish. "All right, let's go to bed. Get the lights, will you, dear?"

She nodded as he pushed himself off the counter and she headed to hit the light-switches. There were two. One near the counter that controlled a set of lights that mostly illuminated the counter, and than another near the door that controlled the main set of lights.

She hit the first and then headed for the second. As her finger touched the switch, the door burst open. Her first thought was that she should have locked the door, and _then_ turned off the lights. Her second thought was that she should leave the lights on, in case they had to treat someone who'd been hurt.

Her third thought... was that her first thought had been right. A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist roughly. She was dragged away from the door. She looked up, seeing a scruffy man with worn clothing. He smelled awful too. Past him, she saw two more enter the building. The second to enter hit the lights, plunging them into near darkness. Only a few, dim lights remained, keeping the clinic from becoming a pitch-black deathtrap at night.

"Dear? What's going on? Are you all right?" Grane must have heard the door open. She couldn't call out to warn him. She quickly came up with another idea to tip him off. She bit the hand that was holding her.

The man groaned loudly and swore. Certainly Grane had heard _that_. Or maybe he'd have heard the sound of the man smacking her hard in the back of the head to deter any further struggling.

And then there was silence. The men all stood still, also waiting to see if they'd been heard. They all looked about nervously. They'd all heard Grane, but he was nowhere to be seen. For the moment, all Neo was truly aware of was the sensation of something trickling down the back of her head. Whatever had hit her had been solid enough to make her bleed.

If not for her aura, she'd probably have passed out.

Still there was no sign of Grane. Had he run away? That would be good. He was more important than her, a good man, he deserved to get away. But then, he was a strong man, wasn't he? Why didn't he come save her? She didn't want to be left to... to... She didn't want to think about what the men's plan for her was.

She couldn't even whimper in fear, just standing there silently, helpless in their grasp.

And then suddenly, there he was. She'd seen it before, Grane's old huntsman sword, hanging on the wall in his room. Now it was in his hand, drawn and ready. She knew that his weapon had a dust receptacle in the hilt... but she also knew it wasn't loaded. It was barely more than a normal blade is it was. It was a thin, straight blade that was more suited for quick maneuvers than hard combat. Without the dust, would he be able to win?

"Let the girl go! I may be an old doctor now, but I was a huntsman in my youth! Do not test me!" Grane warned them, voice solid and unwavering. He seemed quite confident.

"Let her go? Heh, whatever you say, master huntsman!" The man threw her roughly, slamming her into a nearby wall. Her last thought before slipping into dazed half-awareness was that he also seemed quite confident.

She missed the next few seconds, but when she lifted her head back up, she saw one man clutching his hand, a gun laying at his feet, and she saw Grane slash another man across the chest twice before kicking him away. They were not even close to fatal slashes, and she found it strange how that disappointed her. Did she already hate these people that much? Then again, they had hurt her.

The third man rushed Grane, a club-like weapon in his hand. Grane easily dodged his strikes and went about swiping at his knee to slow him down. Meanwhile, the first man was picking his gun back up with his uninjured hand. Neo could only stare as he took aim.

"Move, dumbass!" the man growled, and the club-wielder just unceremoniously threw himself to the side. A gunshot rang out, but Grane lifted his blade in an instant, sparks flying as the bullet was deflected.

Neo gasped in relief, glad that- but still, Gran staggered back, hand flying to his eye. He swung wildly with his sword. She watched in terror as they came down upon him like an avalanche. The man with the club staggered over and bashed him in the head from behind, then the man with the gun flew into action, slamming the but of his pistol down onto Grane.

Neo felt tears pouring from her eyes. Did she really have to watch this? Was there nothing she could do? She wanted to cry, to beg them to stop, to offer them whatever they wanted to leave... but she couldn't. She couldn't even make herself move. For that, she had no excuse.

The man who had been slashed moved next. He pulled out a knife and advanced steadily, a sick grin on his face as he watched the man who had cut him be beaten by his compatriots. He pushed the gunman aside, pulled his arm back, and then thrust his knife into Grane's gut.

She wanted to badly to scream. She felt like a prisoner, having to hold all her horror inside without a way to let any of it out.

"Huntsman, huh?" The man with the knife spat as Grane slumped to the floor.

"All right, now let's get what we came for and get out. _Someone_ probably heard that gunshot," the gunman himself told them.

"What about the girl?" Again, the knife.

"Fine, fine. One of you deal with her!"

Suddenly, once more, the door opened.

"What the hell, old man? Door's open but the lights are off? Where's the damn, ah, here we g-" The lights snapped on, and slowly Neo turned her head to her left to see an unexpected, but strangely welcome face. Roman. "The hell is this?" Roman stared in shock at the sight before him. "O-old man?"

"Who the _hell_ are you?" The man with the knife took a few angry steps in Roman's direction.

"Me? Let's talk about you!" Roman did the same, shortening the gap between him and the men. "Did you _seriously_ kill the old man? That's brilliant! Just brilliant! What were you trying to do, steal painkillers? Well I don't think you need to, because I'm pretty sure you're all already numb for killing _the only son of a bitch willing to fix our worthless asses up_!"

"Oh, shut it!" The man with the knife lunged at Roman, but in a flash Roman produced an extending baton. It snapped open and he smashed the knife out of the man's hand before cracking him across the face with the metal instrument. He then ducked low to take the man's knee out and drop him to the ground, face bloodied. As he tried to stand back up though, he staggered. Neo now saw the reason Roman had come in the first place – his leg was injured.

As the man with the club moved to take his turn attacking Roman, Neo found herself climbing to her feet. She walked past the two battling men, Roman no longer have the element of surprise to allow him a quick win over his opponent. She kept walking, over to the gunman who was probably debating whether risking a second shot was worth it.

She was small and quiet; he never saw her. Never saw her as she walked past the counter, delicate hand slipping up and grabbing a scalpel. He didn't suspect a thing until she'd already dug it into his thigh. He screamed, falling to a knee and ripping it out. He turned and looked her in the eye. He lifted the gun up to her head, but she simply stepped aside and then walked back to the counter. She reached back up, looking for another scalpel, this time selecting one with a bigger, sharper blade.

She turned back, and the gunshot finally rang out. It missed her with inches to spare. The man gasped in shock, eyes flitting about until he finally saw her again. Somehow she'd known he'd miss, that he couldn't see her. He tried to fix his aim, bringing the gun back toward her, but she was already in front of him again.

Down on his knee, even she could reach his neck. She swung the scalpel, and next she knew his blood was spraying across her face. He began to choke. His hand trembled, still trying to get one last shot off. She gently pushed the gun aside and watched him fall to his back, choking as he faded away.

She heard a crash and turned see how Roman was doing. He was leaning against one of the beds, panting, the robber's knife, dripping blood, in his hand. One man's head was split open from Roman's baton, and the other was on the floor, blood pouring from his chest.

Neo looked down at her hand and then dropped the scalpel. She didn't need it anymore.

"Hey... uh... kid. Neo. C-C'mere." Roman beckoned. She took a few steps, but then stopped, just looking at him. "Wh-whoa, uh, st-stop looking at me like that!" She tilted her head. "OK, look! I need to get out here, OK? I'm a wanted man, and with this mess, I'm gonna be screwed if they catch me here! Considering I just saved you, maybe you want to help me out- And for the love of everything sacred, _stop looking at me like that_!"

She blinked twice in confusion, trying to clear her head a bit as she did so, and when she looked at Roman again, he seemed shocked.

"OK... um, well, it's an improvement. Now, can you help me with my leg so I don't have to worry about it falling off tomorrow?" He gestured toward the injured leg in question. She frowned, hardly in the mood, but... he wasn't wrong. She owed him.

She found disinfectant, a suture kit, and bandages, and then set about fixing his leg as fast as she could. Needless to say, Roman found it very uncomfortable.

"I guess... we both got our hands dirty today, huh?" Roman said, wincing and trying to ignore the pain as she sewed his leg shut. "Never... uh... never done anything like that before." He gulped. "B-but for a kid like you, how could I say no, huh?"

What was he talking about? Oh, the two men he'd killed? Had... she also done something like that? She had, hadn't she... She turned around for a moment, looking at the man lying next to a pool of his own blood, throat sliced open. She looked down at herself, seeing that same blood all over her.

She gulped. No, she couldn't think about that. She had a job to do. She had to fix Roman's leg, and then... then she could worry about what she'd done.

"OW! Easy!" Roman groaned. "Pay attention!"

She'd stabbed him with the needle. Her hands were shaking. They'd been oddly steady just a moment ago. She took a deep breath and managed to finish stitching his leg, despite her trembling. After wrapping it with bandages, she was officially done.

"All right, good job," Roman said and took a few breaths. He hopped down from the table he'd been sitting on and retrieved the baton and knife he'd used. "I guess... well, I'm out of here."

He took two steps and stopped.

"What about you, kid? What are you gonna do, huh?" He didn't look at her, it wasn't like she could answer him anyway, not in a way he'd understand. "The old man's gone now. Will that Doyle guy take care of you?" He still didn't look. Was he even really talking to her? He'd mentioned Grane. He... he really was gone.

As if she hadn't already been shaking.

"What about me? I can... I can at least make use of you. In turn I can take care of you, can't I?" Finally he turned around. "I know you've got that aura stuff. And what you did over there... I still don't understand it, but it was amazing. What do you say? You might be just what I was missing. So? Me or... whatever's waiting for you here?"

Go with Roman? She pointed at herself and he nodded. She bit her lip. What _was_ waiting for her? Would Doyle take over? Nothing would be the same even if he did. Either the clinic would consume him, or... She really couldn't say, and that scared her.

She began breathing faster. It was too much. There was too much to consider. She didn't even _know_ all the options. She staggered, her whole body swimming in anxiety. She remembered what Grane had said once. She knew what was most likely.

The "system" would take her. Half the reason she'd been with Grane was because he hadn't wanted to subject her to that.

Her hand went to her chest, trembling over her heart. _Please_. Her hand made the sign for that word, or something close, just subconsciously going through the motions.

"Kid, I told you..." Roman groaned. "C-come on, hurry! There were gunshots, we don't have time!"

She ran at him, clinging to his pant-legs.

"OK... All right then. Let's go." He grabbed her shoulder and began leading her out. "I was serious though, you're gonna have to do work. It 'aint gonna be pretty work, either. But you took care of me, so I guess in return I can take care of you..."

That was fine. She'd lost her mother because she'd been stupid and weak. Then, again, she'd lost Grane because she'd been too weak – paralyzed with fear. Roman was taking her now. The last person she'd have expected, but he was stepping in to keep her from becoming lost.

It didn't matter what he'd ask. She'd do anything. That sickening, helpless feeling... she'd banish it from her life. She'd be strong enough to stay by Roman forever – whatever that meant.

* * *

 **Was originally gonna wait til' I updated Violent Hearts again, but I figured waiting that long to finish off a two-part story when this chapter was already done would be silly.**

 **And to be clear, yes, Neo used her semblance. And yes, her eyes changed color and that's why Roman was freaking out. I think that's everything important.**

 **This is the first fic I've ever slapped a "complete" onto (even if I kinda cheated by making is super short), so let me know what you think.**

 **I plan to put out a metric-crapton more of RWBY fics in the future... so...**

 **Til' next time!**


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